The Wedding Day
by Ramzes
Summary: On the tragic day of his wedding to Elia Martell, Rhaegar says goodbye to his last hopes and accepts his fate. And from then on, thingskept piling on. A PARODY.
1. Elia

**The Wedding Day**

For a while, he had thought that he had been spared – when Lord Baratheon and his lady wife failed to find him a Valyrian bride in Essos. How he had prayed every night for this! Not the end of their journey, of course. Just the failing part.

He had been spared, in a way – he might have ended up having to take a wife who did not even speak the common tongue. Would they have communicated through gestures until she learned the language? Rhaegar Targaryen shook his head. There was no use to ponder over a disaster avoided. Not when he had a disaster waiting for him in Baelor's Sept.

Elia Martell. A Dornishwoman. It was a matter of time before she started exhibiting the Dornish style of wearing… well, wearing almost nothing at all. He supposed he should be grateful that this far, she had managed not to scandalize court. Somehow. Not for long, though – the retinue that she had brought along would take care of this. Rhaegar wondered just how much time would pass before they all returned to their true selves. Headed by his betrothed, of course. By then, she would be his new bride. He shuddered, remembering the way her eyes went to his crotch whenever he entered a room. The worst thing was, it was not specifically his. She did the same thing to any reasonably good-looking man she encountered. Thank the Seven that at least this excluded his father!

In whose bed should he look for her maidenhead, should he feel curiosity? A stable boy's at Sunspear? A trader? The Warrior help him, Arthur's? By the way his friend blushed whenever his eyes fell on his princess – present princess, future princess, always a walking piece of barely disguised sexuality – Rhaegar would not exclude this possibility. Poor Arthur had tried so hard to warn him off the marriage – without sullying Elia of House Martell's repute, of course. As if it mattered! His father had decided to saddle him with the Dornishwoman. Rhaegar had always known that Aerys hated him but he had never thought his father hated him quite this much. A Dornishwoman, of all women in Westeros! Tears of anger and helplessness came to his eyes. He had only had one wish and Aerys knew it. Rhaegar was ready to do anything for the realm, in exchange of just one tiny thing: be allowed to choose his own bride. Given this right, he would have never chosen an older, sickly, well-used woman like Elia Martell. He had been preserving himself for the lady of his dreams and instead he got… this. A woman of no virtue and no dignity but instead a huge desire to be Queen.

The anticipation of the wedding night rose in his head… It was not a good one. Without thinking, he ran for the door, threw it open… and found himself facing a castle wall of man.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard said softly. "But I cannot let you run away to Essos or wherever you thought to go. One way or another, you will come with me. Kicking and screaming or not." He looked apologetic. "This is the King's command."

Rhaegar glared at him but kept his head enough to appraise the situation, so when he entered Baelor's sept, it was unaided. He passed between two lines of people who were bowing and headed for the statues of the Father and the Mother where Elia Martell waited, all in white which did not suit her at all.

Her eyes immediately went down to his crotch.

* * *

 **The End**


	2. Rhaenys

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The Wedding Night

 _Rhaenys_

The little thing was quite sweet, Rhaegar could not deny it. There was something in the oval of her face and her perfect long fingers that had him quite enthralled – until he took her and she dug these same perfect long fingers with perfect sharp nails straight into his cheeks. He yelled and almost dropped her but secretly, he was pleased with her vigour, strength, and zest for life. And this pleasure prevented him from seeing what the maesters had noticed right away: little Rhaenys was weak, just like her mother. In the beginning, he thought her inability to nurse was due to Elia's own collapse – as usual, his lady wife had not taken the exertion well. That Elia's milk was insufficient or just not strong enough. But even after he intervened and had his daughter placed at a wetnurse's breast to help her grow properly, Rhaenys would not take suck. She would spend hours in the girl's arms without stirring, only remembering to draw milk from time to time. Rarely. As a result, she did not grow like the other children.

The maesters were scared to tell him on their own, but once asked, they would not tell an outright lie: Rhaenys did not develop as fast as a babe should. Too slow to follow objects with her eyes, too slow to learn how to keep her head up. And starting to bawl each time she spotted him in the vicinity. The exultation of her birth that had, for a while, pushed aside the disappointment that Elia had been unable to deliver the heir he needed, was slowly retreating and Rhaegar could do nothing to stop this. Rhaenys was simply an unlikeable, constantly crying babe. In constant pain. Something that she had taken from her mother, just like she had taken everything else, her looks, for one…

"She smells Dornish," his father announced and Elia gasped. Her eyes immediately went to her uncle, straight and tall in his white cloak, and it was now Rhaegar's turn to gasp. He had always known how Elia was. She had more than proven all the rumours about Dornish as a whole and House Martell in particular true as early as their wedding night and had kept proving them at Dragonstone where Rhaegar had been forced to drag her in order to hide her wantonness from the eyes of the world. What he had gotten instead was not a wanton and sickly woman but a wanton and sick one. Elia had started dressing half-decently only after her state advanced enough to turn her nakedness into a sight that was not quite pleasing to the eye, to say the least. And only the North could beat Dragonstone in terms of chilly weather, so Elia had spent most of her early months coughing and with a red nose, parading her charms clearly more important than providing the realm with a healthy heir.

Now, Rhaegar knew that she had not even provided the realm with an heir, healthy or not, female or not. The panicked look that these two traded was enough to make his fists clenched. He wanted to strangle this false knight and the lewd woman who had climbed higher than any Dornish snake had any right to expect and it had not been enough. Even knowing her, Rhaegar could not believe it, not entirely. How could you, Elia? Your own uncle?

But at the same time, the truth set him free , in a way that was both strange and comforting. At least now he could stop forcing himself to love the sickly, entirely Dornish girl. And he could focus on finding a way to father true heirs. The problem was, he could not think of one. He was saddled with Elia and Rhaenys who should not have received this name at all.


	3. A Comet

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The Wedding Day

Chapter 3

Rhaegar had never believed all the things people said about Dorne and its women. At least, not before he had wed one of them. And found out just how lewd they were.

The idea of bedding Elia made him feel sick. He had always known that he was not her first one – he had almost thrown up when she had taken his virgin cock in her mouth in their wedding night, thinking only where she had put this mouth. But his stupid body did not seem to care – to his enormous relief, it did what was expected faultlessly despite the bile rising in his throat. Over time, he had learned to tolerate it to some extent, until Elia's state became obvious. The woman was so lustful that she was ready to risk the child everyone expected so eagerly just in order to have sex. More and more sex. She had not even told Rhaegar that she was with child… until it had become too obvious to hide anymore.

Now that he knew the truth about Rhaenys, he darkly wondered how many men she had let in her bed that he had been relieved to leave, both for his own sake and for the preservation of the child. Of course, now she could hardly have even one – they were in the Red Keep and not Dragonstone where she had created a court of her own, with Dornishmen and women occupying the head positions and bribes and her ladies' legs spread wide apart bought the cooperation of many who were supposed to be his people.

This left her with only one option…

"Come on, my lord, don't tell me that you don't wish for it?"

He did not even need to look at her. "No, I don't."

The combination between this pale, exhausted face and the wild lust in her eyes did not make him see her with desire, no matter what she thought. He only felt repulsion and kind of pity. She was ill. Ill with her need of copulation. She had to be. No woman could want a man in her bed while she was still unable to rise from said bed. What made him even more repulsed was the fact that she did not even want _him_ – just about any man would do. Rhaegar was just the only one whom she could reasonably _have_.

"You're too frail still, my lady," he said. "I wouldn't dare…"

"Do you have someone else?" Elia asked outright and he stared at her, stunned by her audacity. But she seemed to take it the wrong way because she rushed to reassure him. "I don't mind, really. In Dorne, we pay no attention to such matters. I never expected to be your only one. Just your queen – and I'll never let anyone take this from me! But you _must_ be with me as well – do you not understand?!"

The temptation to put his hands around his adulterous, lying, ambitious, lustful wife's neck and squeeze become so big that Rhaegar had to turn his back on the bed, with its specific odours of a woman who had recently given birth, although with Elia it had been months. He went to the window and opened it, wondering if it was his lady wife's heat that made the air in the room so hot and unpleasant.

And he gasped.

There it was.

The comet.

Its journey, as swift as the wind, caught his eye, the way it put all other starts into faded nonexistence, the way it cut the darkness in two, shooting like an arrow, carrying with it the promise, and sign, and prophecy…

Rhaegar's hand slapped his forehead before his mind caught up. That was it! The reason why none of the other portents had worked for him. He was not the Prince Who Was Promised. He was the prince who was given… a chance to make difference. Prophecies were nothing if one did not act on them – and this far, Rhaegar had only been waiting.

He turned back to the bed slowly, reluctantly, and when he removed his clothing and set himself to the disgusting act that Elia accepted eagerly – even the pain he could feel he was causing her was wonderful for her, she was so hungry for a man. And when it was over, another portent came true. Born amidst salt and tears… well, if there was a child born out of this disgusting act, its conception would be marked with the dejected tears in Rhaegar's eyes as he took in the repellent mess of blood and semen that did not bother Elia at all, it seemed. She did not think twice before curling right into it and going to sleep.


	4. The Purest Love of All

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The Wedding Day

 _The Purest Love of All_

The clang of the swords echoed loudly in the practice yard, the two blades crossing, bouncing off each other, flashing in the bright sunlight, in the heat that would have wearied off everyone else ages ago. But not these two. Knights and squires, masters-at-arms and servants stopped to have a look at these opponents who looked like they did not belong in a practice yard, yet they had been practicing in this one for years, since the younger one had become old enough to hold a sword in a tiny hand.

"Next time, you'll beat me," the taller one said breathlessly as the sword went back to the scabbard.

"You've been saying this for years." The dark eyes of the girl shone with admiration. "No one can beat you, ever. You're a greater warrior than Visenya and Rhaenys combined, Lady Mother. A true warrior queen."

Queen Lyanna smiled. "That's what I want to make of you as well, my girl," she said. "A true warrior queen. A wife worthy of my son in every aspect."

Rhaenys also tucked her blade back into the scabbard. Her face darkened. Could she and Aegon ever be such a perfect ruling couple as her parents? She had no doubts about Aegon but she harboured some for herself. She carried the blood of Dorne – the traitorous blood of snakes, the weak blood of her Martell mother. She was trying so hard to please her beloved stepmother – no, her true mother, for her father had done her the favour of sending the Dornish viper back to Dorne as soon as it was safe and she only loved and recognized Lyanna Stark – but she knew she did not truly belong in this family of perfection. She couldn't believe her luck – a hero like Queen Lyanna had taken pity of her and loved her despite her looking so much like her whore of a mother and the Aegon the Dornish claimed was her father's son. Even now, as they spoke, Elia and the so called Aegon were planning to disturb the peace and thwart the succession. Fortunately, her father and Lyanna would not let this happen – and she was ready to spend the rest of her life proving herself.

"We have to go to the Small Council now," Lyanna said. "I suppose an hour will be enough to sort through the matters of the day and another hour, to make these pompous Masters of this and that understand. What are your plans for the day after?"

"I have this Chataya girl coming to show me certain… things," Rhaenys replied and blushed before telling herself firmly that being taught how to please Aegon, her future lord husband, was not like being a Dornishwoman at all.

Lyanna smiled. "You should never be ashamed, my dear child. What happens between a man and a woman brings no shame, as far as there is love underneath it all."

Rhaenys nodded. That was what she had grown up seeing, the great love that had smashed a rebellion and launched a realm into an era of prosperity led by the king and queen everyone adored. Everyone. Including her, for she loved Lyanna with the purest love of all.

Almost everyone. But her so called mother and brother would soon be taught their place.

Watching them from the shadow of the tunnel of an arch nearby, the King wiped away a tear of happiness. He had never been more pleased that he had accepted Elia's bastard daughter as his own even as he had exposed the Dornishwoman for the adulterous bitch she was in order to keep some leverage over Dorne. Over time, he had come to love Rhaenys almost as if she were his own.


	5. Harrenhal

**The Wedding Day**

 _Harrenhall_

"It was Lady Lyanna Stark," Rhaegar announced and Elia glanced at him, incomprehension writ all over her face. Lately, Rhaegar had come to think that perhaps she was not as smart as people considered her. Sharp-witted, for certain. But it was not the same thing.

"What?" she asked.

"The Knight of the Laughing Tree!" he replied impatiently and Ashara Dayne who was folding her mistress' clothes nearby shook her head.

"I should have known," she muttered, disgusted. "She's neither a woman with women nor a man with men. It makes sense for a Northern savage to try and be a man – the Seven know that she's doomed to fail at each attempt to make herself look or behave womanly."

Once again, Rhaegar was reminded that Elia had a dubious taste in choosing her friends. Ashara Dayne was Arthur's sister but he could swear that she was Oberyn Martell's twin. A real bitch, she was. At least Elia was not malicious. Just ambitious and mad about men, sick with lust at all times. It was an illness of mind, but not soul.

As if hearing his thoughts, she glared at her attendant and snapped, "Not all of us can be as fair as you, my lady."

This is true, Rhaegar thought. Right now, Elia was anything but fair. Too pale, as frail as if she would break in the waist in two, she carried her babe with effort that kept her constantly breathless. Her state was not as obvious as it should be and it displeased Rhaegar. She could do at least this one thing right – eat as much as needed to keep the babe healthy but no, she kept starving herself and losing weight. The white of her eyes had become yellow. The maids could no longer braid any jewels in her hair – it was so thick that just brushing it down took ages. Of course, its weight gave Elia headache. Rhaegar was starting to question his decision to bring her here in the first place. Her sickly presence might turn out a greater blow to his goals than even his father's uncounted on coming!

"So, it was the Stark girl who wore the disguise of a knight?" Elia asked. "I thought there was something weird about his bearing. I have known no knight of such bearing."

Sourly, Rhaegar wondered how many knights she had inspected closely, with or without armour… and without clothes either. He hoped that she had stopped these side activities of her at least now… She must have, even if not on her own wish. What kind of man would feel desire for a woman with child? A woman with another man's child, at least… Save for Lewyn Martell but Rhaegar had made sure that the man had no _opportunity_ to be alone with Elia.

"So?" Elia asked, not realizing why he was giving her such an annoyed look. Over a year into a marriage with him, and she still did not know him at all, not nearly as much as he felt Lyanna Stark knew him after just half an hour of conversation.

"So what?"

"Why did she do it?"

Rhaegar told her and while Ashara Dayne shook her head, disgusted, Elia's eyes lit up. "She made such a grand gesture in the name of justice!" she exclaimed. "Why, I've never heard the like. Rhaegar! I think we ought to reward her bravery and valour."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes but I can't think of a way…"

"I can!" Elia interrupted, excited. "You'll enter the jousts tomorrow! And when you win, you'll crown her Queen of Love and Beauty!"

Rhaegar stared at her, unable to believe that she was this stupid. "What? Do you not know how it's going to make you look? Everyone will think I want to bed her. They will think I have overlooked and shamed you."

She waved a careless hand. "I'm Dornish," she claimed. "As they pity me, I'm going to laugh about this. Lady Lyanna deserves this crown – you can't crown her the greatest knights of all, after all!"

Ashara and Rhaegar shared a look but while Ashara looked horrified, Rhaegar felt the warm stream of content spreading all over his body. If Elia was kind and foolish enough not to care about the humiliation – why not? He smiled, imagining a crown of winter roses over wintry eyes already…


	6. Atonement

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The Wedding Day

 _Atonement_

Unable to bear another child. Unable! Rhaegar simply refused to believe it. The maesters were wrong. They had to be wrong. Elia should give him two more children – Aegon was the Prince Who Was Promised but he could not do it on his own.

How had it come to this? Someone pulling too tight when the afterbirth would not come out? Rhaegar had seen the disgusting thing when it had been carried out in a basin and had almost retched. Someone pressing too hard on her belly to help the babe move along and _out_? The maesters had ordered to have the two biggest men of the guard brought to the bedchamber and one of them had collapsed on the floor with horror while doing their thing. Either of those huge four hands looked as big as Elia's entire belly when she was not close to her time – and she had had all of them pressing against her. No wonder that she had sustained some injuries. These loots could have killed her! Rhaegar imagined what his father would have done to them in a similar situation and his bile rose. No, he, Rhaegar, would be a better and fairer man. He would not even punish the maesters.

He spent the next two weeks in his study, not eating, not sleeping, just poring over old books and yet older scrolls and mourning. Mourning the prophecy. Mourning the fate of the world, for the dragon needed three heads and Elia had only produced one. He avoided going near her chambers because her weeping could be heard all over the hallways. She was so crushed by her guilt that the only time he visited her, she only repeated that she wanted to die, so he could wed someone healthier and worthier, someone who would be able to give him the two more children he needed.

"Don't be silly, Elia," Rhaegar said firmly, albeit not quite sincerely. "I'm happy that you survived…"

But something about her words stuck with him and when he realized what it was and shared it with her, she was so very grateful that she actually grabbed his hand and kissed it. "Yes," she exclaimed. "Yes, do it!"

She was so happy that she would be able to make up for her failure. And she adored and admired Lady Lyanna's valour. Rhaegar almost allowed himself to think that it would all be fine, although he felt a little conscience-stricken that he had to leave her here when she was so frail and their heir was mere weeks old.

"We'll be fine," Elia bravely assured him but he knew that they would not, so he delayed his leaving as winter crept back and his best chance to take Lady Lyanna came with it, to disappear in a mere month or so. He would wait until Elia and Aegon were stable enough to travel to Dorne.

And then, he saw them. At the time he was always in his study, so they naturally assumed that they were safe. Before the guard at Elia's door changed – that was, before Arthur's replacement arrived and found out that Arthur was not at the door but inside the chamber. Sitting at Elia's bed. With Aegon in his arms. And they both cooed over him, glowing like proud…

Rhaegar recoiled, stricken not only by the death of his dreams for this child bur Arthur's betrayal as well. He was not surprised by what Elia had done but Arthur…

"You know that she is Lewyn's mistress, do you not?" he asked when Arthur appeared at _his_ door, unsuspecting and pleased to be invited.

To his credit, Arthur did not pretend to not understand. "Yes," he said.

"And you are content to _share_ her with him?" Rhaegar's disbelief knew no limits.

Arthur gave a bitter laugh. He did not look afraid. He looked actually _relieved_ to be able to tell someone. Tell Rhaegar. What had Elia _done_ to him?

"I am not content," Arthur replied. "I hate it. I hate that he has her as I hated all the others at Sunspear. But I did try to warn you off her, did I not?"

Rhaegar sighed. "I'm starting to wonder why you did it," he said tiredly. "Was it for my sake or yours?"

Arthur considered this. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I just… I always loved her, no matter how she was, what she did. When she holds out her hand, I… I can't resist."

"Stop it!" Rhaegar ordered, terrified that he might get to hear some more details. "I'm going to be sick."

"I'm sorry," Arthur said.

"I know," Rhaegar sighed. "And I know you are no traitor. It was Elia who lied to me and cannot live without a man. With you, at least it's just her."

Arthur nodded.

"I'll give you a chance to atone for your mistakes," Rhaegar suddenly announced. "I'll let you participate in the glorious quest I'm undertaking tomorrow."

Arthur's smile was so grateful that it tugged at his heart. He was going to save him from Elia's clutches, in the process of saving the world and taking his true queen. He vowed that he would.


	7. The Return

The Wedding Day

The Return

In the glorious days in his abode of love, his tower of joy, Rhaegar had found it in him to forgive Elia for her deception. Honestly, he had thought that he would never be able to do this. But as Lyanna had told him over and over, it was not Elia's fault, not truly. She had never asked to be born with such unquenchable lust. A man in her bed was to her as water to other people. It must be terrible to be born with such affliction. And at the end, Elia had tried to make amends, even volunteering her children to take the brunt of Aerys' anger in the name of the great good Rhaegar was chasing after. She was not an evil woman. She was not. Truly.

He even felt a little guilty as he entered her solar in the Red Keep. No matter what, she was his lady wife. Still. He owed her his protection, at least until he was done with the whole repudiation business. He was not looking forward to it. Elia might be kind of heart but she _wanted_ to be queen. She _wanted_ her son to be King. Even if he was a Dayne… Anger rose once again when he remembered what she had done to Arthur, tearing him in two, forcing him to stain the purity of a Kingsguard and friend to satisfy her desires that could never be satisfied for long! It had taken him and Lyanna months to convince the poor man that he was not to blame, that he was no more guilty for succumbing to his feelings for her than Elia was for giving herself to this disgusting need of hers.

Somewhat to Rhaegar's relief, Elia did look as radiant as a sun. He had expected to see her weak, terrified, weeping with relief for finally seeing him because she still had no idea that he knew about "their" children. But no, not Elia Martell, daughter of the sun, sister to the Red Viper. She wore a bright yellow gown, her hair was perfectly styled and the rubies on her throat were probably worth the yearly revenues of King's Landing. As Rhaegar entered, a man who looked like a Tyroshi if his blue hair could be taken as any indication rose from his pose on one knee and started a stream of flourishing gratitudes and praises. Rhaegar frowned. In the missives he had received, it was claimed that Elia was a hostage against Dorne and any dangerous ideas on his own part. Instead, he found half of the bloody court here, paying lip service to her. Where had she gotten the rubies from, anyway? The Seven knew that he would not spare this much money on even Lyanna! He had certainly never given those to Elia and he knew that Doran had not either. He did not have the _means_ for such frivolities.

"I want to talk to my lady wife alone," he said loudly enough to be heard over the buzz that left him unnoticed – an event that he literally could not remember happening since he was first old enough to remember anything at all.

Now, everyone noticed him. Elia even pinked up delicately and he had to admit that it suited her. She was quite pretty when she smiled, really… not that it mattered.

"What happened, my lady?" he asked as soon as everyone left. "I thought…"

"Is she fine?" Elia asked insistently and wept with joy as she heard that Rhaegar and Lyanna's child was on its way already. Rhaegar wondered if she felt any remorse for forcing him into this impossible situation but if she did, she hid it well. Not once did she let it escape that it would be his first child, that her own son was taking what rightfully belonged to Lyanna's.

Rhaegar waited but that was all that she said. For Arthur's sake, he hoped that her omission to ask after him was due to her fear of giving herself away, rather than indifference but he strongly suspected it was the opposite. Elia could not love all the men who had gone through her bed. It was enough that they had loved her, for a night at least. All men saw the sun but it saw them not.

"I see that you have done well for yourself," he finally said when he knew for sure that she would not explain.

Her blush deepened. "Well, you were away and I had to make sure that the children and I would survive... Still, it wasn't me who made the first step…"

 _Wasn't i_ t, Rhaegar wondered as truth dawned upon him. His father had not had any mistress in years! And despite her innocent face, Elia must have felt some of what would take place and decided to avail herself of what queenly power she could get while she could still get it. Rhaegar felt so incredibly sorry for his poor mother who had been forced even of this last privilege a queen could have – to be viewed as queen. At least he had his Lyanna. Rhaella had no one.


	8. The Green-Eyed Monster

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The Wedding Day

 _The Green-Eyed Monster_

The two most important women in Rhaegar's life had always gotten along and this was only to be expected – they were of similar tempers, submissive, meek, docile, and loving. Patiently tolerating their husbands' whims – at least this was now Elia had been seen until recently by those who never knew the truth about the depravity happening under her sheets. Supportive of each other. Delighted in each other's company.

But this had been before. Before Aerys' thwarted passion had given Elia power that had completely thwarted _her_. Now, she enjoyed taking over the few privileges and honours that Rhaella still had left, and she made good use of them. She made herself known for her charity and the kitchens for the poor sang her praises, as well as many other charities. As well as the septons and septas, for she sent many gifts there as well. The ignorant smallfolk that Rhaegar was trying to save did not care for justice and honour at all. They would consider any whore who fed and dressed them the true queen and Rhaegar ground her teeth at Elia's actions. It was not hard to glean her true intentions out: she had never truly meant the words that she had told him. The lies. The assurances that she would accept Lyanna as his second queen. Oh, she might put up with Lyanna, formally, but she was building power base for herself that would make people consider Lyanna a mere mistress, however glorified. A whore. No competition for Elia and her supposed trueborn children.

Rhaegar had not been so subtle in his disdain for her bastards, after all. She had just tricked him. She might believe in the prophecy but she would not give up her children's false claim here, on earth. Or perhaps she had been sincere when she had encouraged him to seek Lyanna out. Perhaps the power that Aerys' passion now gave her had corrupted her. Power tended to do this to people.

But still, she maintained ostensible respect for his mother. Rhaegar's heart broke when he heard their sickeningly sweet talks. Had Rhaella become so reconciled that she was actually _grateful_ for the scraps his whore of a goodaughter was throwing her? Sometimes, Rhaegar wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her and yell in her face that the Dornishwoman's betrayal was even greated than this, that Rhaella's grandchildren were no grandchildren of hers at all. But he would wait until Lyanna gave birth. Only when he could present his mother with a grandson that was truly hers would he break his heart this way.

Little did he know of how much Rhaella knew.

"I want to make the donation to the Home of Cripples in my own name," Rhaella said firmly and Rhaegar almost cheered her through the curtain separating the antechamber from her solar before Elia's voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

"I don't think so," she said, her tone so brazen that Rhaegar suddenly wished to slap her. He had never hit a woman before. "I have already made the arrangements."

"You seem very good at making arrangements." Rhaella's voice was bitter. "Aren't you going to leave me _something_?"

Elia did not sound moved at all. "You need rest, you know it as well as I do. I am merely relieving you of some burdensome duties."

"I need rest of you!" Rhaella's voice rose. "You know, I almost wish to see the rebels here, marching for the Red Keep! Because then, Aerys would send me and Viserys to safety but he would keep _you_ here. That's what your whore's tricks achieved – he won't be parted from you. He'll have you die by his side."

Elia laughed but Rhaegar thought he heard a note of fear in her voice. She had bitten more than she could chew and this thought filled him with joyful satisfaction.

"I will resume my duties," Rhaella stated and Rhaegar rejoiced at her uncompromising tone. He had been waiting for so long to see her regain her spirit, so many years…

"Should I show the King your letters, then?" Elia asked smugly and Rhaegar froze. What letters?

His mother did not reply at once but when she did, her voice was full of such betrayal that even the truth of her treachery could not move Rhaegar. He simply wanted to take away her pain. "I curse the day he took the white. I truly thought he loved me – and he had been implementing the plan your Dornish snakes had concocted from the very beginning. You as the future Queen and me in his grasp to do Dorne's bidding. I am surprised that he did not father Aegon on you."

"Surprised?" Elia taunted. "Or relieved? Jealousy doesn't become you. It makes you look older, Goodmother. Are you surprised that my uncle preferred me?"

 _And armed you with the weapons you need to neutralize what small threat my mother could pose._ Rhaegar felt that he would be sick as he desperately wondered how he would stop himself from killing Lewyn Martell as soon as he saw him, before the rebels ever had the chance.


End file.
